The Decadence of Souls
by XCs Kid
Summary: Beginning three years before TDKR, a girl is kidnapped by Bane, who intends to use her computing knowledge and abilities to aid in Talia's plan. But she is determined to undermine Bane and escape at the first sign of opportunity.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer (for all chapters herein): This is a work of fiction based on the Dark Knight Trilogy, directed by Christopher Nolan. I do not own any aspects of the franchise, but I do own my OC's and the plot of this fiction piece. I make no profit.**

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**Warning 1: **From this point on expect **spoilers **for The Dark Knight Rises (and possibly the other two movies too)! If you haven't seen the movie yet then get off this fic. Once the movie has been watched, then you have my permission to read this. (See, if you'd watched the movie, you'd see what I was trying to do there. If you haven't watched the movie, then I just look like an ass...).

**Summary: **Beginning three years before Bane's liberation of Gotham, a girl, who belongs to an extreme political activist group, is on the run from her government for crimes against the state when she is kidnapped by Bane, who intends to use her knowledge and abilities in computers and network systems to aid in Talia's plan. But she is determined to undermine Bane and escape at the first sign of opportunity.

**Warning 2: **I intend this to be a **dark fic**. There will be no romance. I will put warnings when appropriate at the start of the chapter, but just so you know what you're getting yourself into.

This story will contain, at one point or another: **harsh language, violence, sexual violence, manipulation, psychological abuse, stressful situations, drug use, suicide and murder.**

**For these reasons, this story is rated M.**

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**A Rather Terrible Thing **– XCs Kid

**Prologue**

She stood as close to the inside of the wide roof ledge as she possibly could. At this height the wind was strong and howling. A part of her was waiting for the wind to lift her off her feet and carry her all the way over this city to the harbour and even further; to the ocean, with a flock of birds alongside her.

The streets below were bustling with activity as the sun was swallowed up by the horizon; the cars stuck in traffic looked like toys and the people like ants.

_Insignifiant._

She couldn't look down for long, because the great height was dizzying. Her stomach flipped with butterflies and her knees knocked together as her legs shook from a primal instinct. Her entire body was in protest.

_P__athétique__._

She couldn't remember the exact moment she gave up the fight for her mind. Was it the moment she realised how much of a monster _he_ was? The moment she realised how weak and breakable _she_ was?

From behind her, flying over her head, a flock of birds flew towards the largest skyscraper in Gotham; Wayne Enterprises. The roof ledge she stood on belonged to John Daggett. This building paled in comparison to Wayne's.

She watched the small birds, their feathers and form so lovely and natural, until they disappeared behind Wayne's building. She looked at the building, thinking how much better it would have been to be able to jump from there instead.

Gotham was the be all and end all for anyone working up their career ladder. A lifetime ago, it seems, she was approved for a work placement at Wayne Enterprises. She was so excited, it was such a big deal. To work at Wayne Enterprises almost guaranteed you lifelong success. But she threw away the opportunity by pursuing an active, illegal, political life.

She was immediately torn from her memories of much better days when the door to the roof opened, and from it emerged the sound of heavy footsteps crunching along the gravel and horribly familiar mechanical breathing approaching her slowly. It was him. It could only be him. _Bane. _She hated saying or even thinking his name, thus was the power of fear he held over her.

She knew she only heard him because he wanted her to hear him; she didn't understand why he was how he was, but over the last three years with she certainly had learned a few things about his methods. She knew he put great emphasis on appearance and effect; he was trying to make her feel dread and fear at the sound of his approach, and she did.

"I told you to stay in that room." he said quietly, softly, so as not to startle her, considering her position.

She inhaled gently, and took a final glimpse at the beautiful cityscape before her, wanting some semblance of beauty in her life. She then turned slowly and delicately around to face him. He looked at her face, at her glazed over eyes and small smile.

"Yes, you did" she replied with equal softness.

They stared at one another for a few moments; his brown –almost black- eyes calculating, her hazel eyes empty.

"Come here." He quietly demanded. He used the tone of voice that he knew made her feel small and like a child.

Her shoulders began to bob up and down and her lower lip trembled as she fought back quiet sobs. She lowered her head and shook it 'no' over and over.

Her refusal of his command shocked him as she hadn't done so for a very long time. But shock quickly turned to anger as his patience wore thin.

"Amélie. Come, now." He commanded louder, his voice more baritone.

"Why? Why did you do this to me? Why me?" She yelled as the barrier behind her eyes broke and a flood of tears ran down her face as she sniffled with large inhales; she was having a panic attack, he noted.

Bane stared at her, his face blank of emotion. He couldn't understand her actions and emotions; never had she acted in this way.

Looking at her face, the contrast of her bright red checks and nose with her pale skin was striking. She had such an angelic face. She really was beautiful, he noticed not for the first time, but Bane was no fool for pretty things, and his tolerance for her disobedience was quickly depleting.

He took a large step toward her, and she shuffled back; her bare heels were just over the edge now, and she swayed back slightly, like a toddler new to walking. Bane froze.

"You stupid girl, see reason. Stop this non-sense and step down!" he extended his hand out for her to take. It wouldn't do for her to die now, not after the years of work he spent breaking her and getting her to fall into place. No, she belonged to him. Her life was not her own to end. It was his, and he was not allowing it, not yet.

A gust of wind blew; Bane's sheepskin coat billowed and Amélie swayed once more.

He could see the violent shudders running through her body over and over, and he could hear her teeth chattering together. She wore only white shorts and one of his own black t-shirts which was far too large for her.

"What do you wish to accomplish?" he asked her sharply.

"Nothing." she said almost silently, "I don't want to accomplish anything, I just want this to end! I- I can't! P-please, please, j-ust stop. I c-can't murder twe-elve million people.". Her breathes were coming in quick and deep; she was hyperventilating. "I w-on't do it. P-please!" She crouched down and cradled her head in her arms, violently sobbing and muttering incoherent begging. _So that is what this is all about._

Bane kneeled down on one knee slowly so that he was just below eye level with her, his hand still offered out.

"Amélie." he said quietly to get her attention, but she didn't respond, too lost in her emotional trance, so he repeated her name, almost kindly. She looked up slowly, meekly, her eye's bloodshot and red rimmed. Her breath was still catching violently in her chest.

"What about your family, your brothers? Have you forgotten about them Amélie? Could you really allow them to suffer for your selfishness?"

Her eyes lit up then in realisation; she _had _forgotten about her family. She began to sob harder. Bane smiled. _It was working._

"Your grandmother gave her life for you. Do not allow her death to be in vain. Take my hand. You owe it to your family." He gestured with his hand, trying to coax her to take it.

She starred into his eyes and he stared back.

"But twelve million people-" she began weakly.

"They deserve it. You know about corruption better than most Amélie, and this city is a cesspool for it. Killing yourself isn't going to change anything, except end the lives of your family." her face flinched, "Now, comply with me as you're meant to, and I'll forgive your behaviour. Or force me to retrieve you myself, and face a severe punishment."

She looked away from him, to the ground, wiped clear her eyes with her hands and gulped.

Slowly she reached her small, shaking, slightly blue hand out and placed it in his large, warm, rough hand. He instantly closed his fist around her hand, stood up and yanked her from the ledge. She cut one of her knee's on the gravel floor when she landed, but Bane was already marching back toward the door, her in tow, before she could feel it.

As they went toward the door, all that circled her mind was; _someone please help me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

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_AN/ So, this is my first story. I was eager to get it on already, so I'm starting with a prologue. It's really late where I am and I'm so tired while typing this, that there may be some mistakes. Sorry. It's sort of irresponsible of me to post it in my tired state, but I couldn't help myself.  
_

_The events in this chapter won't happened for a very long time in the story. It's also not the last chapter. So I think this story will be pretty long. It's also going to be quite dark in nature (to reiterate)._

_I'd love to hear what you think!  
_

_-XCs Kid_


	2. The Hunt Is On

**ONE: The Hunt Is On**

Rain water ran through the street gutters in a micro-torrent as people hurried to find refuge from the heavy autumn downpour. Drivers on their route home were beeping their horns and yelling at one another, albeit in the safety of their own cars, while impatient taxi drivers made illegal manoeuvres.

The chaos out on the street was a sharp contrast to the warm, quiet, otherwise empty café in which Amélie sat at a table for two with a small cup of tea between her cold hands. The tumultuous state of her mind in that moment however would take the award for most chaotic.

Her right leg bounced up and down, she tapped the white cup in her hands with her fingers - to the waitress reading a magazine behind the counter's annoyance the - and regularly checked her wrist watch; doing this served only to make her more anxious.

Just then, the small bell above the heavy door chimed as it was heaved open. The napkins below Amélie's drink fluttered in the gust of wind that ran through the small café leaving in its wake unpleasant goose bumps, and the sight of Mathieu filled Amélie with relief.

"You're late. I thought you had been lifted." she said to him as she stood up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, which he returned.

"Sorry, darling, something... came up" he said, looking away from Amélie as he gestured to the waitress for another two tea's.

"Have you sorted it out?" she asked, feeling slightly panicked. Amélie was not concerned with what the something was, she just wanted reassurance that it wouldn't interfere with their escape.

"Yes." he answered simply, staring down into the black tea that the bored waitress placed before him.

"Good...good." she said quietly with an exhale.

"How are you getting to your Grandmother's?" Mathieu asked.

"Oh, I'm not going to stay at my Grandmother's."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mathieu exclaimed, taking Amélie aback, although her only reaction was a slight raise of her eyebrow. "Your Grandmother's would be the safest place for you; you know this. Why did you change your mind? You have to go." he insisted, almost aggressively.

Amélie wasn't happy with how Mathieu was speaking to her, and saw his behaviour as odd for him, but she blamed this on their dilemma, and instead of persecuting him for it, she considered what he was trying to say.

"I just couldn't put the burden on her." Amélie reasoned.

"But she's your family; she wouldn't see it a burden to _protect _you. Please Amélie." Mathieu looked her in the eyes then, for the first time during their brief meeting, and Amélie could see a strong emotion behind his eyes. It made her feel slightly uneasy, but for what reason, she couldn't place her finger on.

Her alternative plan was to hitch hike around the country, staying in cheap hostels and getting low pay, cash-in-hand jobs to keep her going, until it all blew over - which, she was convinced, eventually would. But Mathieu had a point: her grandmothers cottage was completely off the grid, and before Amélie agreed to take part in their revolution of sorts, she used the Clean Slate program on herself, making it next to impossible to find any information about her or her any of her relations.

She sighed resignedly and said "You're right Matt. I'll go tonight, and stay there for a few months." he grinned at her, and placed his hand over her own.

"Thank you." he said.

"What about you? Where are you going to go?"

"I know a man living in the north of Spain who does not want to see us condemned. He has offered Fadil and I a place to stay. In fact," he checked his watch, "They should be here very soon."

"What about the base? Did you destroy everything? There is absolutely no-" Amélie began questioning quickly.

"Nothing. We left absolutely nothing that is traceable to any of us." Mathieu finished.

"Do you really think Adrien would tell the authorities anything about us?" she said, saddened at the loss of her friend.

"I don't know. That's why we need to hide; you don't know what a person would do to save their own skin."

A car horn beeping several times quickly, in urgency, interrupted them. They both looked out the window. The street had all but cleared now, and they could see a small blue car parked on the opposite side of the road. Fadil was in the front passenger seat, gesturing with his hand for Mathieu to hurry up.

"Shit, that's them." Mathieu said, jumping up and grabbing his bag off the floor. Amélie stood up and opened her arms to him, and he hugged her. He gently pushed her head to his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Then he quietly said into her hair, "I'm sorry, Amélie. Goodbye."

He released her, and then he was gone, out of the café and running toward the car. Amélie watched, confused by his strange farewell, as the car quickly sped down and out of the street.

She went back to the table and gathered her own things, leaving money for their drinks. Then she too left that café, for the last time.

* * *

When the bus pulled into the lone station, Amélie was reluctant to leave its comforting warmth.

Over the course of the three-hour journey she had been able to relax and feel calm and safe for the first time in almost two weeks. She was able to organise her thoughts and fully understand her position, in preparation for the idle weeks that were to come.

As strange as it sounded, especially considering the nature of the object -a musty, old bus that had seen too much of the road- she knew that journey would stick in her mind for a long time, if not forever, only for the absolute contentedness she felt throughout. Her hectic life meant she seldom had such peacefulness.

When she stepped down, out of the bus and into the chilly, midnight, country air, Amélie didn't go near the station, not for food nor to use the bathroom; the danger of being photographed was too great. Instead she began walking up the steep, untreated road. With each step she took away from the bus station, the further she walked into the enveloping darkness, until the light from the station could no longer reach her.

Darkness shrouded her to the point that she couldn't see her hands in front of her when she held them up.

As a child, the darkness would be the main demon of her nightmares; it took a form, huge and intimidating and humanoid, and what could only be described as its eyes would gleam as it approached her slowly, until it was on top of her. At that point she would wake up screaming with tears running down her face.

That dream haunted her until her early teens, but over the years of experiencing it she had grown used to it, she had fought against it. Make no mistake that the figure would still paralyse her in terror at first glimpse -she felt an unease at the sight of a shadow remotely similar to the figure from her nightmares- but every time the nightmare occurred, she would do her best to stay in control and to push the demon back, until one night she had a dreamless sleep. Since then, the demon had left her nights be.

Feeling lonesome by the sudden remembering of her childhood monster, she stopped at the top of the hill for a break and looked back at the bus station. She was so far from it now that the only that could be made of the station was the faint glow of its lights; like a beacon in the dark.

She was close to her Grandmother's farm cottage, only twenty or so minutes of walking remaining, when she heard rustling in a hedge. Amélie knew it was probably a fox or rabbit, but she couldn't help the urge to turn to toward the direction of movement and call out, "Hello?" Immediately she felt silly for doing so.

Then in the distance, quickly coming towards her, she heard a car engine, which she thought was odd because this narrow lane she was walking along was only used by local farmers and residents, none of whom would be out at half past midnight.

She turned around turned back around facing the direction the car was approaching, intending to make her presence known and get out of its way, when, two arms locked around her tightly, pinning her arms to her side.

Immediately she began to scream, out of shock more so than in search of help -no one was within hearing distance, and regardless, everyone living within the vicinity were elderly-, but a cold, large hand was quickly clamped over her mouth, also unknowingly blocking one nostril.

Bright headlights lit up the scene as the Jeep slowed to a stop in front of Amélie and her assailant. She knew the two men in the front seats of the car were not stopping to help her. This was only proved when the man in the passenger seat hopped out and opened the back door. When the man holding her started lifting her towards the Jeep, she began to violently thrash in his arms, pointless screams muffled all the while.

A few sharp punches delivered to her side and stomach by the man at the car door quickly ended Amélie's attempts, knocking the wind out of her. She tried to regain control of her breathing, but with only one nostril it was impossible. She tried all the same, taking painful, panicked breathes but quickly became light-headed and blacked out.

* * *

When she awoke, Amélie was laying where the man had dumped her unconscious body; across the back seat of the Jeep, and in the seat opposite her was a man with dark brown hair on a small head and heavy stubble covering a round chin. She realised that this was the man who grabbed her.

He noticed immediately when she had woken up and turned his head to look at her. Amélie met his stare with her own tired one. After a few seconds of this, she sat up and moved as close to the door -as away from him- as possible. It was still dark outside, she must not have been unconscious for very long.

Amélie kept her face stern trying to feign annoyance, so as not to allow him to see how very, very afraid she was. _How did they find __me__? __Did __Adrien __really betrayed __us__?_

"Well then, who do you work for? The government? A private corporation?" Amélie asked the man coolly, in an attempt to feel some control in the situation. If this was her caught, she wanted the people to see her as dignified, unshakable and proud; she wasn't ashamed of what she'd done.

The man stared at her for a few seconds as though she had said nothing, then hesitated before leaning forward, elbows on knees, and saying something in what Amélie thought was English, his voice low but brief. Amélie didn't know what he was saying, just as he did not understand her.

"You do not speak French?" she asked him. His faced morphed to a small frown and after a few more seconds he brought his finger up to his lips and made a "Shhhhh." sound, before relaxing back into the seat, looking away from her.

The command issued to Amélie did not faze her, because she was too concerned with the questions riddling her mind.

_What business have foreigners got with me? Have they got Mathieu and Fadil? Is my grandmother okay?_

So much was uncertain, and would most likely remain so. Amélie stared out the window, past her weak reflection, and watched as they passed field after field, a deep sickness nesting in her stomach.

* * *

After an hour and a half of silent driving; after the man opposite her had three cigarettes; after Amélie had dozed off for the fifth time, the Jeep slowed to a stop in a large, even, green field.

Amélie stared at the small plane a short distance away, then she looked about the car in panic as the men began exiting it. _Where are they taking me?_

The man who sat opposite her and ignored her the entire journey was making his way round to the door she sat at. Amélie tried opening the door, her hands grasping at the handle and her body frantically banging into the locked door, but to no avail.

When the man reached her door and saw what Amélie was attempting, he banged twice on the window with his fist, shaking her from her thoughtless actions, and fixed her with a warning glare. Then he gestured with his hand for her to move away from the door, which she slowly and reluctantly did.

He maintained eye contact with her, in case she decided to try anything else, as he opened the door and climbed halfway in so he could reach her.

When Amélie saw the pair of handcuffs in one of his hands her panic got worse and she started to kick him as he neared her, holding the handle of the door behind her for support.

Barsad was getting frustrated with the girls feeble attempts at getting away from them, but when she kicked him in the face his anger reached a new height. Once he was able to grab hold of one of her ankles, he roughly dragged her completely out of the Jeep so that she landed with a heavy thud on her back. In her momentary daze he secured the handcuffs on both her wrists, in front of her, then pulled her up by them.

He dragged her to the aeroplane by the upper arm, all the while she was throwing angry curses at him and trying to shake him off. He would have laughed at her pathetic struggles if his lip did not sting from where her foot split it open. For what reason Bane needed this brat Barsad didn't know, and he was angry that he was sent on this tedious mission, but he trusted his leader.

When they were in the plane, Barsad more than happily shoved the girl toward Isidore to deal with her instead, as he escaped to the cockpit.

The new man led Amélie to the small seating cabin and pushed her into a seat. She was getting frustrated with their constant manhandling; she may have been a wanted criminal throughout France, but their mistreatment of her was over the top and non-professional for authorities.

She immediately stood up again when he pushed her into the seat, and he pushed her down again, more forcefully. Once again she was up in a flash when the man began to turn away from her.

He whipped back around and pointed a large finger in her face, and was about to say something when Amélie got her word in first.

"Stop shoving me around you bast-" she shouted at him, but a hard slap across her face cut her off mid-insult, and threw her back into the chair. The man fastened the seatbelt around her waist, tightening it until it was painful to breathe.

She looked up to the man with wide eyes, her left watering from the hit, and he looked down at her smugly then turned and walked away.

Barsad heard the slap from the cockpit, and walked into the cabin to see what was going on, as Isidore was saying to the girl "Sit there and stay quiet." He watched as the girl silently cried once Isidore had turned his back on her and a part of him wished that he was the one who did it. Then went back to his work.

* * *

Amélie awoke to a head of dark brown hair in her face, startling her. Barsad looked up at her when he noticed she was awake and was met with her small, tired eyes. The plane had only moments before landed in their base in Georgia and he was trying to undo the seatbelt, however Isidore seemed to have broken the mechanism so that it held in place.

Hearing two vehicles approaching them, Barsad cursed the awkward seatbelt and reached down to his belt for his large hunting knife. He saw the girl flinch from the corner of his eye. He quickly cut through the annoying material, and in the process nicked the girls stomach lightly, two small dots of blood appearing on her white t-shirt. He made no move to apologise, only stood and motioned for her to move.

As they stood in the field surrounded by a forest, Amélie shivered and yawned silently while her finger rubbed the stinging cut on her stomach through the hole in her t-shirt while glaring at the back of the man who did it. The sun was beginning to rise, bringing a warm orange glow to the grey scene.

Two Jeeps, similar to the one used to drive them to the aeroplane in France, skidded to a stop in front of the spaced out group.

Amélie felt relief at the thought of being away from the men who kidnapped her, and at the opportunity to finally speak rationally with someone in power. She understood that she'd been caught and would be charged for her crimes, regardless of the good nature of her intentions, and she accepted that.

From them emerged eight men in all; seven of the men carried large, semi-automatic weapons and wore mismatched military-style clothing. The eighth man was anything but; even from this distance, Amélie could tell he was huge as he towered over the other men by almost a head. A long, tan coat, lined with white fur protected him from the early morning, crisp, autumn air. He carried no weapon – at least not visibly.

What was most alarming and disconcerting about his appearance was the large, mask-like apparatus that dominated his face. Amélie had never seen the likes of it before in her life, and it made her feel uneasy.

The large and intimidating figure strode toward them. Amélie couldn't tear her eyes away from the horrible thing obscuring his face, but when she did she was met with his black eyes staring directly at her. She was frozen in place by the hatred she felt from his stare, overcome with a cold dread, and quickly looked away at the ground while biting her lip – an old habit. A new-found panic rose within her at the prospect of being in this man's presence.

Bane frowned at the sight of the girl who stood alone in the background of a small team of his men. She looked like a child, short and too thin. _This _pathetic, fearful looking girl was the major threat to the League's latest enterprise? He scoffed at the very idea of it. No, he would deal with her before noon, proving she was nothing but a nuisance and an unsatisfying reason for their wasted resources and time.

"This is the girl you requested, sir." Barsad reported.

"Did you encounter much difficulty with our little captive?" Bane asked.

"She proved to be uncooperative on many occasions," Barsad replied while unknowingly touching the cut on his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "But-" he was about to continue with his report, when a series of roars erupted.

"Sir! The girl!" one of the men shouted, pointing at the girl who was sprinting towards the thick forest, her gait awkward due to the restraints on her wrists. _That was unexpected._

The mercenaries were cocking and aiming their weapons at the quickly retreating figure, when Bane raised his hand to stop their actions. Barsad looked to him questioningly.

"Don't shoot her; fire warning shots only." Bane ordered. He then went to one of the trucks, removed his jacket and threw it on the passenger seat while shots echoed through the field. In the distance he heard the girl screech.

He returned to Barsad a few seconds later and watched as the girl was close to the forest line now.

"Your mission is complete, Barsad. Return to base with the other two and get some rest." He said to Barsad. "The hunt is on, brother." Barsad could hear the glee in Bane's voice and could see the predatory excitement in his eyes that usually came with a conquest. He felt a slight pity for the stupid girl, but the thought of a warm meal and bed gave him a feeling of great relief after the long mission.

Upon signal by their leader, the remaining mercenaries began running after the girl as soon as she entered the forest, Bane in toe.

* * *

_AN/ Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows on the prologue, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter._

_Your criticisms and opinions are imperative to me and the story, especially as this is my first time writing a proper story, so let me know what you think (too long, too boring, badly written, ridiculous, etc). It's really helpful and keeps me going, so let 'er rip :)_

"_Let the games begin!"_

_-XCs Kid_


	3. Box Trap

**TWO: Box Trap**

Waking up to a low, rising sun and loudly chirping birds, Barsad jumped out of his bed and hurriedly got dressed. He'd slept through an entire day!

He made the short journey from the soldiers barracks to Bane's quarters, through the sharp morning air. After knocking heavily on the fully metal door and waiting for a few minutes, then knocking and waiting again, Barsad pushed the door open hesitantly.

He quietly made his way through each room in the small building, wary that Bane may still be asleep, which would be unusual of him. When he completed the circuit and was back in the first room, he realised that Bane had not yet returned since yesterday morning.

Leaving the building that once served as a visitor welcome building, Barsad trekked across the tarmac towards the meal room when he seen Isidore standing against the building smoking a cigarette. Barsad walked over to him, pulling a cigarette of his own from the a beat-up box in his breast pocket. Isidore glanced up at him, but said nothing.

After lighting up and taking a few pulls, Barsad finally asked, "What happened yesterday?".

"Well," Isidore began, taking a long pull from his cigarette, "I had a cold shower, had a smoke, ate dinner, took a piss and a shit, had another few smokes, jerked off then fell asleep." he finished.

"I mean with the French girl, asshole." In Barsad's case, it was much too early in the morning for such nonsense.

"The others came back at about nine last night, but Bane stayed out there all night. Man, we fucked up, letting her run off like that."

"Imagine you're a young woman running through a big, dark forest in a foreign country, wrists bound together and being chased down by an army led by _Bane_. You're lost, alone, paranoid, and very, very frightened. There's no way she would make it out of the forest on foot.

"No, she's still in there somewhere, she's going to mess up eventually, and when she does Bane will find her. She's in his territory. That is if he hasn't already found her; he could be playing with her." Barsad said expertly.

Isidore rolled his eyes at the younger man's speech, exhaled a long stream of smoke as he stomped the butt into the ground, then went into the meal room.

Barsad stood outside for a while longer, looking at the horizon of thick, tall trees before following suit.

* * *

The cold air didn't bother Bane, even in a simple black, long-sleeved shirt. The tree's continued upwards almost infinitely, blocking out all sunlight from reaching the earthy ground below so that he would have thought it still night-time, if he didn't have such a practised sense of time; a consequence of growing up in the pit.

Taking a moment to reassess his direction, Bane slowly looked around him, analysing his surroundings. A distance away, to his right, he spotted an object alien to this environment. He strode over to investigated it, found balance on the thick tree roots and then crouched down to pull it from where it was awkwardly jammed in between two rather thick roots.

With an easy tug the brown ankle boot was in Bane's hand. He smirked down at the small thing, ripped and dirty, before he carelessly threw it over his shoulder instead focusing on the place where he found it.

A considerable amount of broken off pieces of bark lined the forest floor, and there were fresh green marks on the roots. Immediately Bane began to imagine what occurred here. The tree abrasions looked relatively fresh; she was there not long ago, and with a predicted ankle sprain, she couldn't have gotten far.

Finally with a hot trail to follow, Bane's heart was beating strong as adrenaline pumped through his body, preparing him for the take down.

* * *

Her reaction had been immediate and completely instinctual.

As soon as the masked man broke eye contact with her, Amélie quickly glanced around her at the other men, looking for an escape. None of the men seemed to pay her much attention, so with no plan or thought given to consequences, Amélie took off sprinting toward the forest.

Blood pounding in her ears and breathes short and quick, Amélie had never run as fast in her life. Though, the first seconds felt more like minutes, and at one point she thought she wasn't moving at all, like in a nightmare.

When she suddenly couldn't hear the men's yelling, she wondered if they were letting her go and slowed her pace, intending to look behind her to check. Amélie let out a shocked screech when tiny chunks of soil exploded all around her and gun shots echoed throughout the field, then she quickly resumed her sprint for the forest, all the time praying not to get shot.

For a few hours she didn't stop running, although she was not running nearly as fast as she initially was. When a dull but intense pain ran along the inside of her calf and her feet were aching, she had to slow to a walk, but she never stopped, not until it got so dark she couldn't see anything.

She found a tree that had a hole at the base of it, between the ground and the trunk, that was big enough for her to get suitable cover. She snuggled in there for a few hours, but refused to fall asleep; couldn't fall asleep; any time her eyelids felt heavy she would he branches cracking nearby and would be on alert instantly. To pass the time she tried over and over to pull her hands out of the handcuffs, but to no avail.

Either the sun had begun a new day or Amélie's eyes had begun to adjust to the unrelenting darkness, but as soon as she could barely see again, she was back on the move.

When she thought she heard male voices, she panicked and ran frightened in the opposite direction. But in her panicked haste her right foot got lodged between tree roots and she tripped over her ankle. She felt something in her ankle tear, but bit into her hand so as not to cry out.

Afraid that someone may have heard her fall, she set to work trying to dislodge her shoe, but it wouldn't budge so she had to remove it. The pain in her right foot was unbearable to the point that any contact with it could have caused her to faint, but she eventually found a big enough branch to act as a crutch.

And so for what seemed like weeks, Amélie hobbled through the dense and endless forest, painfully aware of how slow she was moving, and constantly spinning around to check no one was behind her.

Amélie hadn't eaten since lunch time the day she was taken, and the last thing she had to drink was the tea with Mathieu. Her stomach grumbled incessantly, her lips were chapped and dry, and she was dizzy and exhausted. That's why, when she heard fast flowing water just ahead of her, she thought it was a hallucination.

Still, Amélie followed the 'imaginary' sound through bushes and into a clearing where she found a very real river. Discarding the branch she limped the few paces to the riverside before falling to her knees and thrusting her arms, nearly to her elbow, into the freezing water, not caring about getting the long, white sleeves wet.

The water stung every cut on her palm she obtained from thorns and stones and falling, and the slices on her wrist beneath the handcuffs stung even more. But she kept them submerged until the water washed away all the blood and grime, then she began gulping the water from her shaking, cupped hands, not giving a thought to whether it was clean.

Sitting back against a rock, Amélie took the time to finally inspect the damage done to her foot. Wincing all the while, she gently pulled the sock off her injured foot, revealing swollen, purple skin that was pulsating slightly.

She dipped the sock into the icy water, then gingerly placed it across the most severe part of the swell, hissing initially at the contact but soon relaxing into the numbing sensation. She sat shivering and panting as a fever set in, and fully exhausted she couldn't stop herself from dozing off.

* * *

Amélie's eyes tore open and she immediately sat up and manically looked around her. Cursing herself for falling asleep, she quickly and unsteadily rose to her feet, briefly forgetting her injured right.

She discovered the cause of her abrupt awakening; in the forest behind her she heard a lot of rustling. Wasting no time, she grabbed the large branch and began following along the river as fast as she could while hopping.

The rustling continued behind her, following her, but she didn't look back.

The river began to widen as she went on, and after wrestling with a bush, she stumbled upon a dirt road and stone bridge that led across the wider and more ferocious river. Next to a bridge was a road sign, partly covered in vines. She ripped them off to reveal writing that she couldn't understand; it looked to be Georgian.

Again, she heard rustling from the bush she just came from, and spun around to it. Green eyes shone through, then two furry paws stepped out. The Lynx head was low, its shoulders pointing out of its back and almost touching.

"Oh shit." Amélie stared at it wide-eyed, not knowing what to do. There was no way she would be able to run away from it, and she was weak with hunger and exhaustion. Still, she couldn't die like this.

She took a small step back, and it followed her, eyes going from her thigh to her neck to her eyes. It began to growl lowly at her, but over the growl Amélie could hear the undeniable sound of a car engine steadily approaching, although it sounded far away.

The Lynx took another cautious step towards her so that there was less than two meters between them. She stared it in the eyes and watched as it got lower to the ground, Amélie assumed it was preparing to pounce on her. If she could only keep it away from her until the car comes around.

Just then, the Lynx straightened up and growled louder than before at her, then turned in its tracks and disappeared quickly back into the forest.

Amélie watched it go, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but not wanting to further test her luck, she turned around, intending to stand at the edge of the road to flag down the car.

Instead when she turned round, she met with a huge chest. She would have fallen back if not for the strong hands painfully gripping her upper arms.

_It was him_.

The masked man glared down at her with his brows furrowed in anger and the air coming from the mask tickling her forehead.

They both heard the car that would have been Amélie's saviour just around the bend. She screamed, hoping the people approaching may hear, and began punching and pushing against the man's chest, to escape his bruising grip but he was having none of it. The man walked forward, forcing Amélie to stumble backwards, dropping the crutch-branch in the process, then threw her to the ground behind the thick bush, well out of sight of the road.

Amélie was determined not to give up. _She was so damn close to escaping_. She pushed herself up, but before she could get to her feet, and just as the car began driving over the bridge, the man shoved her back down and lay completely on top of her.

The weight of his body made it impossible for her to move other than squirming slightly, and the pressure on her chest made it difficult for her to breathe. Her handcuffed hands were trapped between both their bodies and the belt on his trousers pressed uncomfortable into her stomach, and still his feet and head overlapped hers.

The car slowed on the road directly opposite them, and filled Amélie with a last hope that they had heard her. She inhaled as best he could and was going to shout out again. The man's right hand clamped down over her mouth and nose, stopping any airflow, like a cruel mimic of his own mask. He squeezed her face in warning.

With a firm hold on the girls lower face, Bane used his other hand to make a clearing in the bush that he could see through.

An elderly couple were the only passengers in the car. The old man driving shut of the car and jumped out, quickly jogging as best he could to a tree. They both listened as they heard the old man undo his zip and begin peeing. Bane looked to the woman sitting in the car. She looked bored and irritated but hadn't noticed. As the man continued to piss, Bane wondered how much longer it would take, when he felt the girl beneath him renewing her pointless struggles.

Without looking down at her, he lifted her head off the ground then slammed it back down. He put hardly any force behind the action, though he knew it wouldn't seem so to the girl.

Amélie felt like her lungs were going to explode, they were on fire. She didn't know if the masked man was intentionally smothering her or if he didn't realise, all she knew was if she didn't get a breath soon she would black out.

She managed, through lots of struggling, to get her bound hands flat palmed and touching his chest. Not wanting to provoke further attacks, she gently began tapping on his chest, quickly to convey her urgency.

Bane hardly felt the soft touches on his chest, but when he did his first thought was that the girl was stupidly trying to convince him to let her go – an idea he would have to quickly rule out of her mind when he got her back to base – but then he realised she was struggling to stay conscious.

With her foot in the state it was, if they were to get back to base before midday, he would have to carry her, however he knew the stubborn child would not make that task easy on him. So he kept his hand firmly over her nose and mouth as her eyelids widen exposing panicked hazel eyes that were full of fear. _Good_, it was important she knew from the beginning who was in charge.

Her body began convulsing, but he kept her still with his own. Then she stopped and her eyelids closed, and Bane finally released her.

The old geezer finished emptying his bladder and made his way leisurely back to the car. The engine started up again, and in less than ten seconds the car was gone.

Bane stood up, pulling the girl by the chain of the restraints up with him, and set off on the return journey to the base, his small, almost weightless trophy dangling lifelessly over his shoulder.

* * *

_AN/ This chapter is a little shorter than the previous one, I just didn't want to have longer than 8 days between chapters. Chapter three will be up some weekday, this week!  
_

_The other day I realised there was another fanfiction with a very similar name to this one, but theirs is a lot older than mine, so in fairness and respect to them and their readers I've changed the name of this story. Hope I didn't step on anyones toes or cause any confusion! (bummer though, I quite liked the old title :\)_

_To Veronica - No, thank you, Ronnie, for such a wonderful review, I am proud and honoured to be your first. You are correct on your assumptions, it made me really happy to know that those ideas were clear (though I'm going to have to work on being more discrete hehe). As I was writing about Amélie's sprained ankle I couldn't help thinking about your damsel in distress comment, I hope you don't feel let down by the...cliche.  
_

_To fans of box traps, I apologize for the misleading title of this chapter._

_-XCs Kid_


	4. When the Cat is Away, the Mice will Play

**Warning: This chapter contains scenes which readers may find distressing or triggering, reader discretion is advised.**

**THREE: When the Cat is Away, the Mice Will Play**

When Amélie awoke she felt both the physical and emotional effects of fleeing for her life and being forced unconscious twice in as many days, all at once. No confusion came with her lucid state; she could remember all the events that lead to her current circumstance.

A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, the image resonant with one of a childhood enemy, and she would have backed away into the furthest corner like an injured animal if her body didn't ache and she wasn't so exhausted. His breathing echoed through the room – pitch black except for the light cast through the doorway- and Amélie cringed.

Once the masked man acknowledge she was awake, he stepped out of the doorway making way for a smaller figure to enter the room. Seeing the man's face and remembering him as the one who cut her stomach with a knife, Amélie moved away as he approached and batted at his hands as he reached down and took hold of her arms, pulling her to her feet. He held her right elbow for support as she conceded to limp out of the cold, dark room.

The dark-haired, blue-eyed soldier brought Amélie the short distance to a different room with a shabby wooden table and chair in the centre. He shoved her into the chair which wobbled under her slight weight, then left her alone.

Amélie doubled over with a groan and rested her head in her hands. Why was this happening to her? Who were these people and what did they want from her? Her head was pounding, her ankle throbbed and she was incredibly hungry. All she wanted was to be handed over to the police already.

"'Amélie Marie Mercier' born in Montpelier to Frederic and Dominique Mercier on the 21st of June 1990, correct?" the man's voice came suddenly from directly over her. Amélie startled and sat up, looking at him wide-eyed as he stood on the other side of the table, arms folded over a huge chest, tall and proud.

The familiar sound of the French tongue in such a situation would normally have been comforting, but it sounded distorted and ugly coming through the mask.

"...Y-yes" Amélie hesitated then stuttered. To lie now would be foolish. She turned her gaze to the wall, finding the mask awkward to look at and his eyes far too knowing.

"Good. It would be a shame to go through as much trouble as you put us through only to find we had the wrong person. It would also make us look very foolish indeed, wouldn't it?" he unfolded his arms to instead lean on the table, which groaned in protest, all the while staring intensely at her pale face. Amélie gave no attempt to answer.

"I do not like looking foolish, girl. Look at me." he demanded with a loud slam of his hand on the table, and she did quickly.

"Why haven't you contacted the authorities already?" Amélie asked angrily, tired of his gorilla like actions. He truly was a mindless ape; all brawn, no brain.

"What I want with you and what your countries authorities want with you are two separate matters. A month ago you hacked into the databases of multiple globally companies. I am to find out what information you downloaded."

"Who are you working for then? What you're doing is illegal, and a criminal or not, I'll have you and your employer arrested!" Amélie shouted.

The flimsy wooden table was flipped to one side in a second, two of its legs coming loose in the process, and the masked man took a single step forward and pulled Amélie off the chair by her neck. Her nose was a hairline away from the grill of his mask as her feet dangled and kicked at his shins above the ground, all the while her face quickly began turning red as she couldn't breathe.

"Do _not_ raise your voice at _me_, stupid girl!" he growled angrily, shaking her twice in emphasis.

Just as darkness began to stalk Amélie's vision, and with great reluctance, the man let go of her neck with a shove. Hitting the ground harshly, Amélie curled into a ball has she dry-heaved and struggled to breath.

Bane took to pacing the width of the room as he waited for the girl to regain her composure, and to calm himself down. It wouldn't do to kill the girl without finding out what she did with the information. Talia would be displeased.

"I am growing tired of your childish display. Cease it at once and cooperate, or I _will_ kill you." Bane said when her retching at stopped. She sat up against the wall then, her bound hands cradling her neck, and stared up at him with frightened, watering eyes. "Now tell me what I want to know." he said, stopping in front of her.

Amélie knew what he was talking about; she downloaded the information to an encrypted hard drive for their group to use as blackmail. The problem was that she didn't have that hard drive, it was in her grandmother's house, and she couldn't lead this animal to her grandmother's home, she wouldn't.

"I..." she tried, but stopped at the sound of her broken voice. With a gulp, Amélie tried again, "I don't know what you're talking about. I did not do what you are accusing me of." she said weakly.

Bane just stood looking at her, disbelieving. He tutted then, and crouched down. Amélie followed his movements, cautious of another attack when his hand slowly reached out and hovered over her right ankle. Amélie stared wide-eyed at his hand, thinking '_no, no, no...!_'

"Tell me that again." he said flatly. Tears began to drip down Amélie's face and she clenched her teeth.

"It wasn't-" she began, but words turned to pained screams as his large hand encompassed her swollen ankle and squeezed. "Please...please stop!" she cried between breathes.

"So far you have shown yourself to be arrogant, stubborn and distrustful, three despicable traits of an equally despicable person. The treatment you receive here is a reflection only of your actions. Now, what will you have me do?" he spoke as she writhed, and never relented his grip.

"Please! I-I'm sorry! Oh god, please stop!" she cried again, and he finally did, though his hand remained around it causing discomfort. "It is on a hard drive hidden at my grandmother's house. We never used it for anything and only I know it's there."

Bane was silent for a moment, considering, then said "Is that so?" and applied slight pressure on her ankle again, in warning.

"Yes! Oh god, yes it is! Please!" Amélie begged.

"Very good!" Bane said with fake merry, and removed his hand from her leg only to wipe his index finger over her wet left cheek- red from the slap she received on the plane and stinging from the salty tears and contact. He then patted her cheek twice with the back of his hand, saying "All it takes is a little incentive."

Amélie jerked her head away and closed her eyes in shame. A knock came from the door, then the now familiar soldier entered. Bane stood up and greeted, "Barsad, our little guest has done well today and earned herself a reward!" To which Barsad nodded and approached her. In his hands was a bottle of water and two bread rolls, which he handed to her. Amélie took the items gratefully with weak and shaking hands. She glanced over at Bane, expecting to see his back turned to her so she could look at him in contempt, but he was looking down at her with an eyebrow cocked and said, "Well?"

Amélie quickly looked back to Barsad and said quietly with an averted gaze, "Thank you."

Barsad ignored her and turned to his leader and friend, "Sir, a Jeep has been prepared for your departure. It's just outside. What do you want done with the girl?"

"Return her to the room after she has eaten, then have a medic look at her foot, it seems to have suffered quite a trauma." Bane said, looking down on the girl. She was staring at her lap as she slowly picked a small piece off a bread roll and brought it to her mouth. She seemed in her place, for now, although she was proving to be rather wilful, a trait of little consequence however because he would soon kill her. "I will return in two days. Until then keep the men in line and keep our guest alive. I trust you, brother."

"Yes, sir" Barsad nodded, and Bane clapped a hand on his shoulder as he passed him on his way to the door.

Amélie continued to eat the bread rolls, then gulped the entire bottle of water, while Barsad glanced about the room, paying most attention to the broken table and flipped chair. When he noticed she was done, he took the empty bottle from her, then helped her up.

She looked a mess, with her limp and puffy eyes from crying and sleeplessness, her cheek red from where Isidore hit her and now the purple bruise forming around her neck. Sure she had been stubborn and made his job difficult, but it's not like he didn't understand her reaction to being kidnapped, and now he was beginning to feel sympathy for her. Although earlier he expressed a desire to himself hit her, those feelings were at the time light-hearted and now were long out lived.

Many enemies had seen the inside of the room he was leading her out of, but all were hardened soldiers, all were men, and none made it out again alive. This was no place for a young woman, especially one as small and pathetic looking as she.

Her presence here was only further adding to the strange changes Bane was making to their army; six months ago he moved the base of operations to the middle of nowhere in Georgia, and since then every two weeks he went on a journey, to where Barsad didn't know, but he would not return for two days, sometimes three. They recruited new men to train, and had began participating in local civil disputes, to the appreciation of a number of local villages. Now they were holding a girl hostage and knocking her about! Bane was no saint, but always he was adamant to exclude children, women and elders from attacks. What could cause such a change in Barsad's old friend and the agenda of their army so?

* * *

When Barsad returned their prisoner to the single-toilet, windowless, unused bathroom they were keeping her in, he went to the meal hall for dinner. Once he had a hefty plate of food, he found Isidore and sat opposite him, placing his tray and the key to the bathroom on the table.

In between bites, he informed Isidore, "I need you to use your _impressive _medical skills to look over the girls ankle. Its sprained or something."

"Where is she?" he inquired, flicking ash from his after-dinner-cigarette onto an empty plate.

"In the bathroom in Bane's quarters. I'll show you when I'm finished eating"

"No worries, Barsad, I think I can manage one _girl_" Isidore said as he stood, rolling his eyes, and lifted the key. Barsad was going to protest and insist Isidore wait for him, but then supposed he could trust him and let him go on. Besides, he wouldn't be long behind.

* * *

Amélie was surprised by Barsad's gentleness – a shocking comparison to his earlier treatment on her – as he helped her to her _cell_. When he flicked the light switch on, which was outside the room, and she saw that her prison was a dirty bathroom she wanted to vomit. The floor was horribly discoloured and the paint on the walls was chipped and damp. There was no source of heat and so everything was ice-cold. The toilet had no water in it, and the pipes only ground when the tap was turned, producing no water.

Now she sat in a corner which appeared to have the least mould while she hugged her torso and tried to warm herself with warm exhales down her white t-shirt. The simple maroon skirt that stopped above her knee and the black tights that was more holes and ladders than tights did little to stop the cold from penetrating to straight into her bones. The cold from the tiles did soothe her ankle some though, and thankfully Barsad kept the light on.

Just then she heard the key sliding into the lock. The door opened to reveal not Barsad, or the masked man, but the man who hit her. He carried a green first aid box and entered the room with the same smug look on his face when he saw the red mark still on her face.

Amélie glared up at him and pulled her knees up to her chest subconsciously in an attempt to protect herself. She tried to look around him for Barsad, but no one was there and he closed the door behind him.

"It is okay. I am here to fix leg." He noticed her defensive body language and said in broken French and with a gesture with the box to his leg. He knelt in front of her and set down the green box with the white plus on the front, then reached for her right leg. She pulled her legs closer in response, and he laughed. "My name is Isidore. Be good and I not to harm you." he said. His terrible French, trying to reassure her Amélie assumed, only served to make her more wary, but she gingerly stretched out her leg. Isidore gave her a small smile as he reached for the hem of her skirt with both hands and pushed it up.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she said angrily, shoving his hand away from her and pulling the hem back down.

"To get to foot!" Isidore explained, exasperated.

"Just use scissors to cut the foot of the tights!" Amélie explained with a scissors hand gesture, shocked by the sudden contact on her thigh. She didn't want any of these guys near her.

"Ah, okay, okay!" Isidore said with his hands up in a show of friendliness, but afterwards he didn't move, just looked from her eyes to her red cheek to the hem of her skirt to her ankle to the first aid box, then to the door. After a few seconds, Amélie confused at what the man was doing, Isidore turned back round to her.

Quickly he grabbed her by the backs of her thighs and pulled her towards him so that he legs were at either side of his and she was now lying flat on her back. Her skirt had slid up to around her waist by itself and Isidore was pulling both her tights and knickers down at the same time.

In shock, it took Amélie moments too late to spring into action. She sat up and brought her bound hands over her shoulder and fired them at his face, again and again and again before he finally grew tired and held her hands out of the way, then back-handed her across her right cheek, letting go of her hands so she fell back. But Amélie was already trying to pull her legs away from him and closed. Her tights were at her ankles and she pulled her feet out of them then delivered a kick to Isidore's face. He fell back and cradled his busted nose, then shouted out angrily, in English, "You broke my nose, you whore!"

Amélie was already on her feet. She pulled her knickers back up as she limped quickly over to the door, ignoring the throbbing in her foot. She pushed the door open and screamed "Help!" as loudly as she could. The thought that no one here would help her never crossed her mind. Isidore's hand was in her hair while the other pulled the door closed again. He threw her back to the ground, and on her way down she hit the edge of the toilet seat.

Isidore dropped to his knees between her legs as she lay sprawled on her belly, and began fumbling with his belt buckle. Amélie tried to get up but he punched her on the back where her kidney would be twice, then returned to his fumbling.

"I said I wasn't going to hurt you if you were good. This is your fault!" he said in English as he pulled her t-shirt up to her bound wrists where it got stuck, all the while Amélie twisted in his hold. He pushed her back to the floor, the cold tiles pinching against her exposed skin, and he held her there with a hand pushing heavily down onto her shoulder as the other hooked into the waistline of her knickers about to rip them off, himself exposed and ready, when two hands grabbed his t-shirt from behind and tore him off her and out of the room.

When Barsad shoved Isidore to the other side of the room he took a quick glance into the bathroom, seeing the girl lying on the floor, half-naked.

"What the fuck, Iz?!" Barsad yelled as Isidore was tucking himself back in. Barsad closed the bathroom door and locked it, putting the key securely in his pocket.

Isidore laughed, not believing Barsad's reaction. "C'mon man, it's been weeks since we all had a good fuck, can you blame me? The bitch is our prisoner; the big man won't care what we do to her, shit he's probably going to have a go himself, why should we go without?"

"Maybe he doesn't care, but no one is '_having a go_' until Bane says so, and you can send that message to any other fucker who wants to try."

"Barsad, you can't be serious." Isidore said, becoming angry, "You think you're so much better than all of us, don't you? Just because you're the big man's lap dog. Do this army a favour and grow a pair of balls, yeah? And a dick while you're at it, because you obviously don't have one if you can seriously pass up such a golden opportunity. I mean, did you see how young that bitch is, she's probably a virgin and everything!"

"What, Bane leaves for a few days and you all turn to animals? Disgusting, man." Barsad said, his disgust clear on his face, "You better stay the fuck away from here, Isidore, or I'll tell Bane what you've done."

"Tch, fuckin' figures." Isidore said, as he exited Bane's barracks, finally getting his belt redone and wiping the blood gathering around his nose off his face with the back of his hand.

Barsad exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his hand before he return to the bathroom. When he opened the door, Amélie was sitting against the wall, struggling to put her t-shirt back on because of the handcuffs. Hearing the door open, she quickly stopped and covered herself as best she could while staring at the door to see who would emerge.

"Stay away from me!" she shouted and was crying uncontrollably, but Barsad went over to her anyway, not understanding exactly what she said. He reached out to her, and she began frantically fighting him. Not a word of French known to him, he resorted to simple shushes.

She wouldn't stop, so he proceeded to pull her t-shirt back over her head and down her body amid a flurry of flying limbs.

Whether she stopped because she finally understood Barsad was not trying the same shit Isidore had, or because she was simply too tired, Barsad with great care turned her face to the side to get a better look at the split skin above her right eyebrow that was dripping blood. He retrieved the first aid kit and started cleaning the wound – to the best of his knowledge. It needed sewing up probably, but Barsad did not trust himself to do such a thing, so he just put a large medical plaster over it.

All the while Amélie sat staring at nothing, as though Barsad wasn't even there, and when Barsad left to get her a pair of trousers and then returned, she hadn't moved an inch. He didn't try to help her put the trousers on or anything, just left them folded next to her, and then left her alone for the rest of the night.

* * *

_AN/ Eek, it's been a while (longer than I said it would be; sorry). I just lost the writing vibe, so this chapter is an attempt to get back into the vibe. Because it's been a while, I can't remember exactly what I want revealed when, so I'm hoping there are no obvious discrepancies in storyline._

_Considering the content of this chapter, I'm torn between whether the title of it is a bit fucked up or not... I was just thinking on my toes...  
I'm taking my time with the scenes with Bane and Amélie because their relationship is going to be quite complex, but there will be more and they will be longer and more intimate (not romantically or anything, but, you know, i dunno...) CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT._

_Veronica - I too am curious as to where I am going with Barsad's character haha. Thanks for the continued feedback, I'm really loving it (that goes for the other wonderful reviewers also!). I love the box trap idea, very cool!_

_Guest x - Thanks so much for the greatly positive review! I'm glad you like it and hope this chapter wasn't disappointing!_

_Thanks for reading, and give me a holla to let me know what you think!  
_

_-XCs Kid  
_


	5. Two Weeks

**FOUR: Two Weeks**

Barsad spent the next two hours, after discovering Isidore with their prisoner, thinking over his dilemma of whether or not to tell Bane.

He had known Isidore for two years, and in those two years they'd fought side by side in some of the toughest, gruesomest battles, saving each others lives. Of the thousand or so soldiers under Banes command, Isidore was his closest friend, in a way Bane never could be so long as he was his leader. Not once had what Isidore said or done hinted that he was a rapist; if he had, then Barsad wouldn't have had anything to do with him. But what if Isidore was always attacking women throughout the duration of their friendship, and even further back?

As the hour approached midnight, Barsad was becoming too tired to think further about it, and retreated to his quarters.

It was pitch black outside as Barsad stumbled toward his room, and after a few moments the motion sensor controlled light above his door suddenly burst to light, Barsad stood in the centre of the light.

"...Barsad" a voice came from behind and immediately Barsad recognized it as belonging to Isidore. He spun around, expecting another confrontation.

"Man, I'm not here to fight, really!" Isidore said quickly, holding his hands up as he took a step into light, though from his shoulders up was still mostly in the dark and difficult to see.

"What do you want, Isidore? I can't deal with this right now" Barsad complained, holding back a yawn and straining his tired eyes to see Isidore.

"I've been thinking about everything I said to you earlier today, and I want to apologize. I don't want what happened today to come between us." Isidore said.

"What, you mean what you said about me not having a dick and being a lapdog?" Barsad began and Isidore put his hands in his pocket while looking away and shuffled his feet slightly, like a school boy caught breaking rules.

"All of that is just shit talk I'm not concerned about, Isidore. What I'm more concerned with is what the fuck you were doing in there!" Barsad continued.

"I don't know what happened. I went to help her and she started acting like a bitch, and I was patient but then she kicked me in the face -broke my nose- and I lost my temper." Isidore lied.

"You got so angry you just had to rape her?" Barsad asked, incredulous.

"I...I don't know what was going through my head. I was angry and tired and had been drinking, then I saw an opportunity and took it. But you were right, it was disgusting, I see that now and I feel ashamed." Isidore continued intensely.

Barsad regarded Isidore closely for insincerity or deceit, then said with a sigh, "You did a lot of damage to her, which Bane will inquire about. I've known you for a long time, Isidore, so I'm taking your word. I'll leave out the attempted rape if you swear to me you haven't tried it before and never will again."

"Barsad, I have a wife and a little daughter back home who I adore. I have never and could never defile another fathers daughter in such a way. I can't explain my actions earlier, but I am disgusted and shocked with myself."

Barsad looked at him for a few seconds then nodded once in acceptance. "The girl's ankle still needs seeing to; we will both go in the morning. You can do some translating for me too."

Isidore quickly closed the distance between them and grasped Barsad'a shoulder, then with a smile said, "Thank you, brother."

Barsad nodded once then Isidore turned and walked away. As Barsad watched Isidore leave, the light turned off automatically and Barsad was plunged into darkness. He pivoted round and continued to his quarters, however the light did not come back on again, the bulb having blown, Barsad speculated until he walked into his locked door, then his thoughts returned only to his warm bed.

* * *

Bane was feeling the effects of lack of sleep as he glanced at the clock on the dashboard which indicated midnight. He became more awake once again when he saw the familiar landmarks of the village he was entering, anticipating eagerly his meeting with the now very grown up Talia.

Switching off the engine, Bane stepped into the chilly midnight air and walked towards the only house with a light on. Making sure to keep his footfalls silent, he crept down the dark hallway towards the heavy, satin purple curtain that acted as a door.

Reaching out his hand to pull open the curtain, it was shoved abruptly across by the person on the other side before his hand got within even a foot.

"Did you really think you could mask your presence from me, my friend?" Talia spoke proudly with a smirk.

With a sigh and a smile - noticeable only by the crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes - Bane said, "I was simply testing your abilities. Your senses are as sharp as ever, little one"

Talia wrapped her arms around Bane's waist, placed her head against his chest and looked up at him.

Since they had been reunited Talia had hugged him like this almost every encounter, and yet the frequency did nothing to stop him from tensing up completely, even if only for a second, in shock.

His life wasn't full of hugs, and if it was anyone but Talia snaked around his torso, he would have knocked them out by now. But it was Talia, and so, slowly and awkwardly, he hugged her back with little force, afraid of hurting her.

Talia pulled away with a small laugh as she noticed Bane's discomfort, then made her way into the room lit by a single, bare, dim light bulb. Bane followed after her, pulling across the curtain.

"The computer hacker Amélie Marie Mercie has been captured, and the hard drive located. She says only she knows of its existence and that nothing has been done with the information." Bane reported.

"And do you believe her?" Talia asked, moving to sit on a worn couch beside a small fire.

"She was rather convincing under the circumstances. I do." Bane replied, still standing in the centre of the room.

"Then I believe her, too." Said Talia, and she patted the seat next to her. Bane moved to sit, falling back into the seat heavily.

"And where is the hard drive being stored?" Talia asked, moving closer to him and resting her hand on his chest.

"In her grandmothers home, in France. I will send men to destroy it as soon as I return to base, and kill her soon after." Bane answered, glancing down at her hand, before taking it in his own. Her hand, he mused, seemed as small in his much larger one as when they were in the Pit together.

"Hmm, leave the hard drive for now. I have been thinking further about the French girl. She is a world class hacker, and in a technologically world dependant on computer systems her skills could prove more than useful to our cause. How would you feel about holding her for a longer period of time than first supposed?"

"For a second time in my life, I have given myself to the League and to you. I will do what needs done for the cause, always. However, I do not think my army is a place to hold a prisoner. We are nomadic soldiers, with enemies throughout the world. Your prisoner may expire before her use."

"Darling, I know how dedicated you are, that's why I go to you for the most important tasks. I would trust no other. The League has not recovered from its failure two years ago in Gotham; we have no other choice."

Talia removed her hand from Bane's and moved it to his face, her delicate fingers lightly trailing over the tubes of the mask as she stared into his eyes and he stared back, before she broke contact with him completely.

"Besides, I'm sure you could convince her to work for our cause, instead of keeping her a prisoner, as you call her." She said with one eyebrow cocked.

Bane said with a smile in his voice, "Do not doubt how persuasive I can be, little one. I will keep Miss Mercie for now and see what comes of it. What work do you have in mind for her?"

"I'm aware she has written a programme, called the 'Clean Slate', which she hasn't fully developed. The programme in itself would undoubtedly be useful to us, however it is the searching component of it that interests me.

"As you know, I have been working alongside Bruce Wayne on the renewable energy scheme. I've had to put a lot of money into building a nuclear fusion reactor which I have yet to see.

"I do not think Mr. Wayne has used my money for other means, although I have no reason not to after how he betrayed my father. Well, nine days ago Mr Wayne told me the reactor would never work.

"I've done quite a bit of digging and found a paper published exactly one week before Wayne informed me of the projects failure, by a Russian scientist on the realistic weaponisation of fusion reactions, and I don't think that's a coincidence.

"However it seems this Russian scientists name has since been completely censored to protect his identity and it is believed that he has been placed in hiding. We need to uncover the name of this scientist then find his whereabouts and acquire him." Talia divulged the next steps in her plan, and Bane listened, understanding his next duty.

"Then I will ensure Miss Mercie performs well and finds this elusive scientist." He told her. "And what of Mr. Wayne?"

"When all our preparations are complete we will show this Batman, this traitor, the consequences of betraying the League of Shadows, and Ra's Al Ghul." Talia said looking away from Bane with a blank expression, venom lining every word.

Bane placed his hand on her shoulder lightly, gaining her attention, then said "Yes, he will."

* * *

At some point during an indistinguishable amount of time, the soldier, whose name Amélie learned was Barsad, had come into the bathroom. He spoke to her, but said little. Amélie didn't know what he said or did, or how long ago he was there or for how long he stayed. She felt numb and lost, like a four foot layer of glass stood between her mind and her body.

Suddenly the glass thinned until it was gone, and Amélie was back in the dingy, cold bathroom, in a white t-shirt and only her underwear, with handcuffs holding her two raw wrists together. The pains that tortured her body returned; the swollen ankle, bruised face and neck, and a discomfort coming from her back.

But the significance of the pain and the cold and the exhaustion was lost entirely when suddenly Amélie was overcome with the memories of Isidore attacking her and trying to force himself on her.

Was this her life now? Would that masked man kill her grandmother, then return and beat her more then rape her, just as his soldier had tried? Would he let her go, or give her to the authorities for trial and imprisonment, or would he kill her? Dump her body somewhere it would never be found?

Nausea overcame her as worry, angst and guilt made its home in her stomach and mind. To fight against the bile rising from her stomach, leaving a burning sensation in her chest and throat, she rested her head in her hands and tried to control her breathing, which she hadn't noticed had become erratic.

Her hands made their way to her head and found her hair, mad she began tugging on it painfully and punching her head as she remember everything. How could she be so weak? Was this who she was? When faced with a tough situation, would she ultimately crumble and obey? How could she send that man to her grandmother, who'd done so much for her?

Her resolve should have been stronger; she should have been stronger. She should have fought harder, against the masked man, against Isidore.

Everything. Everything was her fault, and she hated herself for it.

She began to cry, not whimpers or sniffles, but a torrent of water from her eyes and mewls she couldn't control while shudders raked throughout her body. Her head felt as though it would explode and she imagined her face was bright red.

Eventually the cries died away, but Amélie didn't feel the release that followed such an outburst, only further disgust. She noticed the trousers folded on the floor beside her.

She lifted them and stood up, keeping her back to the wall for support and held the trousers out in front of her, inspecting them. They were men's combat trousers, identical to the ones the other soldiers wore, and looked far too big for her.

She was proved right when she awkwardly pulled them on, trying not to disturb her foot. The waist band hung incredibly loosely from her hips, and she could have pulled them up to her waist before her toes would peak out the bottom. She looked like a child trying on adults clothes, but conceded they were better than their alternative.

The green of the first aid box was striking compared to the monotone colour of the bathroom, and peaking out from behind the sink it caught Amélie's eye. She hobbled over to it and fell back on her bottom with an 'oof' to pull the box toward her and rummage through it.

Bandages, more bandages, plasters, sterile water, safety pins, tweezers, scissors. Two pairs of scissors.

She took out the sharper of the two then packet all of the other items back into the box in the same order, as best she could. It was then she heard footsteps approaching.

Closing the lid of the box she slid it back where it was, then quickly moved into the corner opposite the door. If it was Isidore then she'd stab him. She looked at the small, silver scissors she was clinging to. They were not nearly sharp enough to do much damage, unless she hit a vital artery, and hit it hard.

As the sound of keys fiddling with the lock of her door filled the tense room, she quickly hid the scissors underneath her and wiped her eyes and face dry. No more crying, no more tears. The door open, and in came Barsad, followed by Isidore.

At the sight of Isidore, Amélie had to fight herself from reaching for the scissors, and she yelled, directed at Barsad, "What is he in doing here?!", then directed at Isidore she yelled, "Get out of here, you bastard, before I rip your head off!"

Barsad spoke to Isiodre, then Isidore turned and spoke to Amélie, in French, "Calm down and stop yelling, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to look at your ankle, real this time, and I'm going to translate for Barsad."

"No, you're not. You're not coming anywhere near me!"

Isidore looked to Barsad, who nodded. Then Isidore approached her and crouched down, exactly how he did the night before. Amélie was looking at Barsad though, shaking her head no. He was supposed to have helped her last night, so why was he leading Isidore to her again? Were they both going to attack her?

"Listen to me. I told Barsad you were not cooperating, that you attacked me first. You broke my nose. That means he has to tell Bane - the boss -, and you'll be in trouble." Isidore began, and Amélie snapped her head back to look at him, horrified by what he was saying.

"You lying piece of shit, you tried to rape me last night! I had to fight against you to get away!" Amélie yelled, furious at what he was saying, and also fearful at the mention of Bane - she had the impression he was not a man to be in the bad books of.

"Yes. I was going to rape you last night. But who do you think they will believe, hmm? Look, I'm trying to do you a favour-"

"A favour? A fucking favour?!"

"I'm doing you a favour by warning you not to tell anyone what really happened, because they won't believe you. Bane doesn't have any patience for liars, you'll only make it worse for yourself." Isidore finished.

Barsad began to speak to Isidore then, and Amélie was lost in thought.

"Barsad says you need to stop yelling and let me do my job." Isidore said then, gesturing to Amélie's leg.

Amélie glanced quickly at Barsad, who was standing near the door and looked confused by what was going on between herself and Isidore, but also irritated. She looked back at Isidore and gave him a glare before pulling up the leg of the trousers, deciding it best to have her ankle looked at by some form of professional.

Isidore retrieved the first aid box and set to work on her ankle. As he worked, and when Amélie noticed Barsad wasn't paying attention to them, she leaned forward and whispered into Isidore's ear, "I'm going to make you pay for what you did to me before I leave this place."

Isidore stopped in his ministrations and looked up at Amélie, straight in the eye. "I look forward to it, babes" he said with a snicker and winked at her.

"Where is Bane? I want to know how long I'll be here for." She asked Barsad, and Isidore translated.

"Bane will be back tomorrow. You'll have an opportunity to ask him all the questions you want then." Isidore translated Barsad's reply.

"He's hasn't gone to my grandmothers, has he?!" Amélie asked, worried.

"Like he said, Bane will be back tomorrow." Isidore translated.

Barsad's small kindnesses to Amélie had given her a false sense of understanding; she thought Barsad was going to help her, but now he was acting cold and distant toward her. Was it because of Isidore's lie?

"It's badly swollen, but now that the support is on it, the swelling will go down in a few days, and it should be usable in about two weeks." Isidore reported first to Barsad, then again to Amélie.

In truth, Barsad was disappointed by Amélie. He thought she was intelligent enough to know to choose her battles, that she understood the best thing to do for her survival was just what she was told to do. Seeing her bruised and hurt in such a way made him uncomfortable and made him want to help her. But he couldn't help her if she wasn't prepared to help herself.

"Good. Thanks, Isidore, I've got it from here." Barsad told Isidore, who packed everything away then got up and left. Barsad did not see the look Isidoee gave Amélie before he left however.

Barsad approached Amélie who was rolling down the leg of her trousers. He crouched down in front of her, and gestured with his hands for her wrists. Amélie raised them to him, and he unlocked the handcuffs and put them in his pocket.

Amélie rubbed her wrists, then moved her hands in circles, enjoying the freedom. Barsad took from his pocket another bottle of water and a packaged sandwich, and handed them to her, and she accepted them hungrily, but not before telling him thanks.

Once she was finished eating, he stood and offered his hand to her. She took it, confused, and allowed him to pull her up and lead her from her bathroom-cell.

They slowly made their way down a hallway, left from the bathroom, to a single door at the very end. Barsad held open the door for Amélie, who hesitated before warily stepping across the threshold and into the room.

The cement floor was cluttered with discarded clothing; long sleeved black t-shirts, combat trousers and nondescript socks. A double bed sat against the longest wall, directly opposite the door, it's grey sheets in a messy ball, though among the grey Amélie could see a blanket with an exotic, red and orange pattern.

To the left of the bed was desk, it's surface completely covered with boxes and files and rolled up paper, and maps of both the local area and international places hung on the wall around it.

Amélie didn't get the chance to wonder who resided in this room, before she already knew the answer. This was definitely Banes room. She shuddered at the thought that what separated her from him was a single brick wall, that he slept just down the hall from her. _The lions den_.

They continued through the room to a door on the other side, which Barsad revealed to be a bathroom, complete with toilet, sink and shower, but then Barsad left quickly with a curse, leaving Amélie alone and confused.

Taking the opportunity, Amélie made her way back into the room and hobbled over to the desk. On the wall was multiple maps of the same places; Gotham, USA, and Morocco, West Africa. On the desk was a wooden box that looked handmade and decades old. It had a rusted latch, and had intricate patterns carved into its lid.

Curiosity took over and she reached out to open it, when a hand clamped around her wrist, not painfully, but strong enough that she couldn't move her arm away.

Barsad stood with a bundle under his arm and a stern expression on his face. Not angry, but cautious - as though he was afraid.

He let go of her and nodded toward the bathroom. Amélie walked back to the bathroom in front of Barsad. He handed her the bundle, then tapped his watch before leaving and closing the door behind him.

She unrolled the large white towel and a bar of soap and a small bottle of shampoo fell to the floor, and Amélie realised Barsad was allowing her the chance to get cleaned up.

There was a mirror covered in splashes over a sink dirtied with shaving foam - did this man have any concept of cleanliness?! Amélie bypassed the mirror, knowing that to see her face now would only depress her more, and went straight to the shower and began undressing.

The water heated to its maximum temperature quickly, though it was hardly warm, and Amélie found herself constantly glancing around the shower curtain at the door. After a few minutes, she noticed the small window directly overhead, the top of it touching the roof. Before she knew what she was doing, she was standing on the thin shower edge and reaching for the pole. She managed to reach the ledge of the window, slippery from condensation, and pulled herself up to look out it.

It was a tiny window; it would be a squeeze even for her, but it wasn't a long drop to the ground, and if she could get through it then she could run the short distance to the forest, the building blocking the view of her escape, giving her enough time to get away.

With what little upper body strength Amélie had, she held onto the ledge as best she could with one arm, while she tried to open the window. No luck, it was locked - might as well have been airtight, because it wouldn't budge.

Three loud knocks came from the door, and, startled, Amélie slipped and fell to the floor of the shower. With a groan she got up, turned off the water and got out of the shower. Barsad open the door then, wondering what the loud bang was, but before he could come in Amélie slammed it closed, calling out "I just slipped, I'm okay"

Barsad had no idea what she said, but the fact she was talking meant she was probably okay.

Amélie got dressed again, grateful for the shower, although she found it disturbing to be in Bane's personal space. She patted down her trousers, searching for the scissors, and found them securely tucked away in her zipped closed back pocket.

Two weeks. She would just have to wait the two weeks until her ankle got better, enough to run on. Until then she would have to built up trust, lead them to believe she was on their side, without giving herself away, until an opportunity of escape presents itself. But then again, would she even be alive in two weeks time?

* * *

_AN/ How'd I do with Talia and Bane's scene? I don't want it to seem like they're romantically involved, because their not, but they are incredibly close - or so it seems..._

_I know this chapter was quite dialogue heavy and not a lot of action happened, but it was necessary, so I hope it wasn't boring! And I realise Isidore's French miraculously improved, but that's only because it was killing me to write so incorrectly. On the note of the language barrier, I hope the dialogue isn't too confusing, or annoying; Barsad had no idea what Isidore was saying to Amélie._

_Australia - Thanks so much for your kind words, I'm glad you really like it! I'll try to be consistent :)_

_Guest x - I'm afraid Isidore will be sticking around and making life miserable for Amélie for some time, though he will get his comeuppance! Bane is such an interesting character, I don't think I'll ever get bored of him!_

_Del - Thanks :) _

_Veronica - I really enjoy reading your analysis and perspective of my chapters, they're really inspiring and right on point! _

_Thanks everyone for reviewing, following and favouriting, it's really encouraging._

_I hope you all had lovely Christmas' and have good New Years :)_

_See you all in 2014! _

_-XCs Kid _


	6. Boundaries and Rules

**FIVE: Boundaries and Rules**

"I've gone soft. I've definitely gone soft." Barsad said to himself as he brushed his teeth and thought about his dealings with their prisoner. She looked too sad all the time. Anger and fear Barsad could happily ignore, but sad was not an expression any of their other prisoners before her wore. Her pitiful expression did its job of making him feel sorry for her, but it couldn't last.

Bane couldn't return quick enough Barsad thought, worried that he was losing his edge. The sooner she was gone, the sooner things would return to their normal order.

He then heard the unmistakable sound of a Jeep pulling into the base, and he quickly got ready and made his way to Bane's quarters.

Bane was just leaving his room while putting on a shirt, when he saw Barsad.

"Barsad," he greeted amiably, "Anything to report?"

Barsad noticed that Bane was always in a good mood - well, as good a mood Bane could be in- when he returned from his mysterious trips.

"Our sources have reported unusual activity within recent weeks. It would appear a new rebel force has risen in the south." Barsad stated as they walked down the short corridor to the main room.

"Hm. Who is their leader?"

"No other information has been gathered on them. They are an elusive bunch.

"Keep your ears to the ground for now until we gain more knowledge of them." They reached the door of the bathroom-cell and stopped.

"And what of our prisoner?" Bane inquired.

Barsad looked away for a beat, contemplating whether or not he should inform Bane of the mishap with Isidore. Realising he was taking too long to reply, Barsad quickly looked back to Bane, who was staring at him expectantly, and replied with a clear of his throat, "I sent someone to take a look at her foot. When I arrived, they were in the middle of a struggle. The soldier says she was uncooperative at first and then attacked him, breaking his nose." Barsad explained.

Bane frowned, "Who was this soldier?"

"Isidore Esadze, medic and sharpshooter."

"Bring him to me at once." Bane ordered, then pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the bathroom door.

"Yes sir." Barsad said and left for the meal hall.

The girl did not notice Bane's entrance. Bane approached her sleeping form that lay curled up on the floor, in the opposite corner of the room. Grabbed hold of her unsuspecting foot and began easily pulling her out of the room.

Amélie awoke with a shocked yell and the sensation of falling, when she realised she was being dragged out of the bathroom, thankfully by her uninjured ankle.

Bane gave one final, rough tug of her leg then let go, causing her to slide a small distance to a stop.

Having had a lot of time on her own, Amélie spent her waking moments the previous day planning how she would react to her second encounter with the masked man. Their first meeting he caught her unaware with his violence and abrasiveness, but today Amélie was prepared. After her shower and a complete nights sleep, she felt grounded once more, like herself again. And like her usual self, she would show him no fear or submission, and would ask the questions she needed to know the answers to, and expect those answers.

"You look surprised to see me." Bane said mockingly, as he paced slowly.

"Did you go to my grandmother's house? You better not have harmed her." Amélie ignored Bane, and proceeded with her questions. Today she had a far better hold over her emotions, and was feeling a lot more cocky.

Bane looked down at her, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "I don't think you are in any position to make threats." Bane stated.

Feeling uncomfortable having him tower above her - more so than usual - Amélie gathered herself and stood. However, Bane pushed her back onto her bottom with a nudge of his boot on her shoulder. Amélie glared up at him, angered.

"I didn't say you could get up." Bane said, standing in front of her and folding his arms over his huge chest.

"I don't need your permission to sta-" she ground out.

"You must have a short memory to have already forgotten your place, little mouse." Bane interrupted mockingly. Amélie cringed at the pet name.

"Did you hurt my grandmother?" Amélie asked, ignoring his condescending words.

"Your grandmother is safe and unharmed, for now." Bane said, boredom lacing his words. "We will have a discussion about all of that later. But first, we have an equally pressing matter to attend to."

"And that would be?" She asked with an eyebrow cocked, mirroring Bane by sitting up straight and folding her arms over her chest.

"I told you two days ago that your treatment here was reflective of your behaviour, so what am I to do when you attack one of my soldiers?"

Amélie stilled for a beat.

"I was defending myself." Amélie said, confidently. "He attacked me first."

Just then, the door open and Isidore entered stealing Bane's attention, followed by Barsad, and Amélie felt her heart beat quicken and dread set in. Isidore pointedly ignored Amélie's presence, and went straight to Bane.

"You asked for me, sir?" he said, looking up at Bane who stood almost a head above him.

"It seems our young guest did indeed break your nose." Bane stated, looking at the white bandage over the soldiers nose that had patches of blood on it. "A soldier of my army, beaten by a girl?"

"She caught me unaware, sir." Isidore said quickly in defence.

"As will enemies who have actual combat skills. You will spar for three hours a day with the current best soldier, until improvement is seen." Bane condemned, and Isidore looked irritated though said nothing and made sure to conceal his feelings from Bane.

Bane turned to Amélie then, "Get up." He told her.

Amélie looked at Bane suspiciously as she got to her feet, wondering what he would do next.

"Disputes among ranks are resolved normally through sparring, however considering your poor physical state, I think a simple 'eye for an eye' will do." Bane finished, stepping away from Amélie so she was faced with Isidore.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Amélie stuttered, fearing what would come next.

"You broke this man's nose, so it is only fair that he returns the favour." Bane answered plainly.

Amélie looked at Isidore and he glared back at her with his characteristic smug look which Amélie doubted the others took notice of, then he approached her.

Realising Isidore meant to hit her, she looked wildly to Bane and then Barsad, but they showed no signs of interfering. She was completely on her own in this place, an idea she had yet to get used to.

Isidore advanced on her and reached for a fistful of her t shirt, but Amélie punched his arm away and moved backwards, out of his reach.

"This isn't fair," she began saying to Bane, panicked and hoping he'd call off the oncoming attack. "I'm injured and he's a trained soldier!"

"So if you were uninjured you would be able to fight on equal footing with this man?" Bane asked, amused.

Amélie continued walking backwards away from Isidore, but he caught up with her and pushed her roughly, causing her to fall backwards. She wasn't on the floor for long though, until Isidore's fist curled into her t shirt and pulled her to her feet and held her against the wall, other hand raised and in a fist, ready to strike.

Amélie's hands pulled at his own, trying to release his grip, to no avail. He moved then, pulling his arm further back and Amélie threw her arms over her head, protecting her face, squeezed her eyes closed and yelled to Bane, "Fine, you're right, I wouldn't be able to fight him!"

"Then I assume you will make an effort not to attack any of my soldiers again, if you know you cannot bear the consequences." Bane's voice came from right beside them, and Amélie uncurled from herself to see Bane towering over them.

"And there will be consequences. Do not think because you are female that you will be treated differently."

He stared down at Isidore, who was eagerly waiting to punch -

"Leave us."

Amélie audibly sighed in relief when Isidore begrudgingly let go of her t-shirt, thankful she escaped another package of hours of pain, and then she was alone with Bane.

"What was that all about?" She asked him as she smoothed her hand over her wrinkled t-shirt and sore chest.

"Setting boundaries." Was all he said.

He walked over to what seemed to be the interrogation room and pulled open the rather heavy looking door. When she showed no intention of following, he said "After you." parodying an usher.

She limped over and stopped in front of him where he leant against the open door, and gave him a stern look. He cocked an eyebrow and shoved her the rest of the way into the room.

The skin on her lower back crawled where his warm and large hand pushed, and she gritted her teeth to hold back a yell of frustration. When they were in the room, Bane closed the door and Amélie heard finality in the action, realising it was time to up her game.

The chair she occupied during their first encountered was still on its side from when Bane lunged at her, but the table had since been removed.

Subconsciously her hands went up to rub her healing neck.

She spun around to break contact with his hand and to see him, feeling uneasy having him behind her.

He seemed to be in a different mood than their previous meeting, today being much more patient and even sarcastic.

"What are you going to do to me?" She asked solemnly, looking up into his dark brown eyes.

"Take a seat and we will discuss things."

"No, just answer my damn question!" She said, growing impatient at his question dodging, and tired of being stuck in limbo regarding her future.

"Sit down or I will break your legs so sitting is all that you can do." He threatened lowly. She obviously misjudged how lenient he was feeling.

_This is good, I'm learning how to read him._

"Fine, I'll sit down." She said and went towards the chair, "But I want you to answer my questions. It's the least I deserve."

Bane laughed unforgivingly as he retrieved a chair for himself, "Little mouse, that I have not killed you yet is far more than you deserve."

He placed the chair directly in front of her, so close that her feet were below it and to sit on it Bane had to swing a leg over it - although it wasn't much of a swing. Considering his height, it would be more apt to describe the motion as stepping over the chair.

When he sat down, Amélie was almost between his knees, and looked incredibly uncomfortable being so.

Bane sat with an awkward, though almost perfect posture, and folded his arms over his chest as he stared at her. Even when he was sitting, she still had to look up at him.

If this girl was to stay here for a long time, she had to know that this was his domain, and he'd mark his territory the way he always has; the way he was taught in the pit.

"I don't understand why you hold so much contempt for me. I haven't done anything against you, or your army." She said, moving her legs together to avoid any chance of further contact with him.

"You have foolishly confused my way of operating as a personal reflection of my feelings for you. Little mouse, I do not care enough for you even to dislike you."

After a moment passed, she said "I won't lie, that stung, Bane." And crossed her arms over her chest once again.

It was the first time she spoke his name, and Bane wondered where she had heard, because he certainly had not told her it.

"Initially you were brought to me because you stole information belonging to a close friend of mine. However, agendas have changed and I see further uses for you yet."

"What makes you think I would ever do anything for you? You should have considered that when you were hunting me down, or when you were strangling me."

"When I left this very room only two days ago, you were cowering in a corner and meekly eating. I wonder what happened to instil within you such false bravado?" he said, more so to himself. "Nevertheless, your words are empty promises. So long as I know the location of your nearest and dearest, you belong to me, unless you want the people you love to suffer painful deaths. This is your final warning to hold your tongue."

Amélie fell silent, and all thoughts of replies abruptly ended as she weighed what he said.

"Do I have your attention now?" Bane asked.

He was far too close, the shear size of his body overwhelming her. She planted her heals into the floor and pushed back. The chair didn't budge and she saw that Bane had already placed his boots behind the front legs of the chair, anticipating her action.

"The clean slate program. Where is it?" He asked her, deciding to disregard her attempt to move away from him. She looked into his eyes and made no attempt to mask her irritation.

Clearing her throat, she said "It was in the bag I was carrying when your men abducted me. I lost it when I was trying to fight against them."

Bane abruptly stood and left Amélie sitting alone in the room, confused, but not for long as he returned within seconds, an object in his hand.

He dropped Amélie's bag into her lap and reclaimed his seat, folded his arms then waited for her to make a move.

Amélie eagerly unzipped the bag and began rooting through its contents.

"The program only." Bane chimed in, and Amélie paused for a second before continuing. Apparently she wasn't getting her possessions back.

She pulled out the small external hard drive, and felt something inside it moving.

"Well shit, it's broke." She said, shaking it and hearing a lot of things within clattering loudly.

"You won't be able to access the program?" Bane asked. To put it kindly, he was not technologically literate.

"It's completely busted, impossible to retrieve any information from it."

Bane held out his hand and Amélie stared at it for a second until she realised, then handed it to him.

"I will have one of my men confirm your diagnosis." He said, taking it and placing it on the floor. "Unfortunately for you, this means you will have to create the program from scratch."

Amélie immediately stopped looking through her bag and gave him a measured stare. "It took me two years to get the program to where it was, and it was nowhere near finished. If you expect me to recreate two years of work, then you're out of your mind. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I refuse do to what you're telling me to, it's that what you're telling me to do is impossible." She said slowly, being careful not to elicit his rage.

He exhaled a sigh, "I do not require the entire 'Clean Slate' program, but rather the search functionality. You will create a program which discovers the identity of a man, and then you will locate him. I am aware of your skills so do not attempt to convince me that you cannot fulfil this task, as I fear how I will react to such blatant lies."

They held one another's gaze, Bane's a warning, Amélie's defiant.

"Do you agree to complete this task?" Bane asked, his voice calm.

"I don't know who I'm looking for. I don't know what they've done to incur your interest. You and your soldiers are cruel and criminal, and I don't know what your agenda is. So no, I do not agree. I will write the program for you, but only because you are holding my family hostage against me."

A crinkle appeared in the corner of Bane's eyes.

"That will do for now."

His hands crossed the short distance to her bound wrists and he removed the handcuffs. Her hand lay in his for a moment, and he observed the deep red marks that circled the entire way around both her wrist, until she quickly pulled them back and held them close to her person.

"Consider this your first reward, little mouse." He said, motioning to the handcuffs he was slipping into his pocket.

Amélie refused to rise to the bait and reinforce her position as almost a pet. Bane wanted her to feel inferior to him, wanted her to feel like he was above her. But Amélie knew, despite the reservations she held about her own self worth, that he wasn't.

"As your stay has been... extended, I see it fit to lay down the rules that I expect you to follow. As of tomorrow, you will arise at 7 am and you will be supplied with a suitable breakfast. You will be escorted to the computer terminal at 8 am and will spend the rest of the day working on your task. A suitable meal will be supplied for lunch and dinner. At 7:30 pm you will be escorted back to your cell. If you fail to return to your cell by that time, the punishment will lie on you alone. Do you understand all that I have said?" He asked sternly.

Amélie reluctantly nodded -

"Speak!" He commanded.

Amélie looked at him, disgusted and feeling humiliated, but said nonetheless. "Yes, I do."

"You are now among our ranks. I expect to be addressed accordingly." He said, expecting the appropriate response,

Amélie paused, then ground out, "Yes, I do, sir." She looked at him for sign of approval, and he nodded once at her.

"You will not leave this building and you will follow your orders immediately, provided they do not interfere with my own orders to you or these rules. If you require anything, then you must seek permission from me. Failure to follow these rules to the best of your ability will inevitably result in a great deal of pain for you."

Bane stared at her, his brown eyes smouldering with authority as he waited for her response.

"...yes, sir."

It seemed Bane would accept no less from her than upmost respect. Unfortunately for Amélie, she had a strong pride that would not permit such debasement. There had to be a way for her to get through this with her dignity intact.

Bane knew his little mouse was a prideful, arrogant fool. It was not difficult to put her in her place, but it seemed she would not remain there for long. He looked forward to every opportunity she would hand him to put her back in her place, each one breaking her piece by piece, until the day when she finally breaks and submits herself fully to him.

* * *

_AN/ I'm going to be too busy over the next 2 1/2 weeks to update, but I wanted to have one update before then, so I wrote this chapter quite quickly. It was a difficult one to write, and is definitely not a terribly good standard. Sorry about that. _

_It's because I've been rethinking the story and have a lot of 'threads' to chose from. I think I am going to remove the prologue on the next update._

_I'm feeling uncertain about a few things, like are all the characters personalities and portrayals consistent? Is the story sort of all over the place?_

_I really like this idea and want to see it written, but I'm not sure if the current version is how I want it to be. There may be a complete rewrite on the horizon. I'd appreciate any opinions or advice on the matter._

_Del, Guest & AuRevoirMonCauchemar - Thanks for the review and such kind words._

_The reviews, follows and favourites are always really inspiring and make me really happy, so thanks very much for showing an interest :)_

_-XCs Kid_


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